


Cursed Treasure

by SoongTypeDisaster



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Evil Twins, Gen, Kidnapping, Mistaken Identity, Revenge, slow burn revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23530648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoongTypeDisaster/pseuds/SoongTypeDisaster
Summary: Kivas Fajo is out of prison. He wants his most prized possession back. But in his second try at abducting Data, he gets more than he bargained for.
Comments: 43
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little something for those of us who always wanted to see Fajo get roughed up a bit. Rating/warnings may be adjusted as more chapters are written, but I don't anticipate needing to alter it. Any violence shouldn't be any worse than what we saw in the show, though there may or may not be additional swearing. Please feel free to suggest any tags I may have missed!

It had taken some doing, a few strings pulled here and there, some favors called in that he had been saving for a rainy day - he had wanted to hold onto those favors for something far more interesting - but he had managed it. Oh, he would have to start his collection over again, but that was alright. All part of the game. All part of the fun.

Kivas Fajo was out of prison, and that was the important part.

He had procured a new vessel, new subordinates (and a handful of the old - oh, sweet blackmail would get you anywhere), and had already returned to gathering rare items by theft, trickery, and coercion. It would take him so long to make his showroom as magnificent as it once had been, and he lamented the pieces he could no longer obtain - under better guard than when he'd stolen them the first time, and his name a little better known for the wrong reasons. But there was one item he refused to give up on. The rarest piece ever held in his collection, even if it had only been for a short time.

He wanted that android.

Undoubtedly its shipmates were onto his tricks by now. He would need a different approach. This bore some thinking. But Fajo was the master at his art. Yes, the android itself had acknowledged his genius, even if it hadn't appreciated the ends to which he used it. A pity.

But no matter.

Soon enough Data would belong to him again.

* * *

Months later and the preparations were complete. He had been patient. Oh, so patient.

He hated being patient.

But the room was reinforced to his previous standards, with a few minor alterations. Among them, that nobody else had access this time. That was his primary mistake, of course, in his previous attempt. He had once entrusted someone else with the codes to the door. Had let her near enough to learn how to open the safe. Not anymore. No more traitors. No more chances for backstabbing.

The capture itself, of course, had to be done by someone else. That was going to be the trick, wasn't it? Fool me once...

He'd had plenty of time to work it out. Layers of deception. Redirect through a few different contacts, have someone else lay the bait. He had an idea of how to get it started, if only the subordinates he'd sent out would hurry up and get back to him with how the deals were going. He got up, about to jam his fist onto the comm panel and demand an update from someone - anyone - when the thing crackled to life on its own.

"Sir?"

Ah. Forwarded on from outside. One of his people reporting back from the field. "Yes, yes, what is it?"

"We've uh... we've had an unexpected stroke of luck. The android, sir. He's here. Do you want us to try and take him now?"

Fajo wiped a hand across his mouth, taking a moment to answer. "Is it alone?"

"Seems to be, sir. None of us have seen anyone else from Starfleet around. Mostly our people in this market. They'll keep their mouths shut, but we might have to pay them--"

"Yes, yes, pay them whatever they want. _I want that android._ Short it out and bring it straight back, do you understand me? It's worth more than whatever you'll need to keep the locals quiet." As the comm link cut out, his hands were shaking. Fajo barely suppressed the urge to bounce up and down on the balls of his feet, and wheezy laughter escaped his throat. It was meant to be. He'd told Data he would get it back in his possession, and now that stubborn pile of circuits was about to be his all over again.

Some scant few light years away, in a shady marketplace on some half-neglected colony planet, the android in question had just registered several figures approaching. With reflexes far faster than any human, he should have been ready, but the market crowd had concealed them. Too close. Too late. One, two, three of them pulled something from beneath their clothing, at least two more hanging back, waiting.

"What--?"

The world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

One finger twitched. Then another. Processes restarted, one by one, self-diagnostics running through every system, rebooting, repairing, until at last the android felt confident enough to open his eyes. Ten hours, forty-seven minutes, eight seconds since his systems had been overloaded and shut down. He recalled the last moment before he'd blacked out and bolted upright, eyes narrowing. Kidnap. He'd been kidnapped. But what for? He had been certain to sow plenty of good will with the locals. Had been puttering about in the market off and on since he'd left his last transport - some outdated stolen Federation junker being piloted by a group of Ferengi. He'd made sure not to make any enemies, biding his time until he could book passage elsewhere... helped, of course, by the uniform.

The stolen uniform that got him into so many places without question, and out of trouble by reputation alone.

Until today.

He supposed it was possible that the Pakleds, slow on the uptake, had finally noticed the parts he'd stolen for bartering ages ago. Possible that they had come after him for revenge. But he didn't think they were smart enough for this. Besides, this place was rather... cushy. Not exactly your average prison, nor anything the half-wit traders could have afforded. The android's lip curled just a bit. He had been planning on changing back out of this uniform in short order. It was so tacky. Then his eyes fell on a pile of clothing that appeared to have been laid out for him. Well well. A little hospitality? Very well. Perhaps he'd wait to kill his captors until he had a chance to hear them out. Curiosity, if nothing else.

It wasn't long after he'd changed (ugh, maroon? not much better than the yellow but it would have to do) that the door hissed open, and a rather portly man stepped through, shutting it swiftly behind him. The android said nothing, and neither did the man, the latter looking him over like some child appraising a new toy. The android raised a brow and waited.

"Well," said the man at last, clapping his hands in what appeared to be a satisfied gesture, "I'm pleased to see you've learned from last time."

Last time?

Ah. Data. This man thought he was Data. Lore suppressed the slow smile that threatened to curl over his lips. Oh, this was going to prove interesting.

The man was still prattling on. "...and of course we'll just burn that old uniform. You won't be needing it anymore."

"No."

Fajo paused. "...no? But what, my dear Data, would you need to keep it for? I'm certainly not permitting you to wear it. Surely it doesn't have any _sentimental_ value. You don't have any sentiment."

Sentimental. As if. Damned thing was _useful_ and Lore wasn't about to give it up. He'd already lost track of the first Starfleet uniform he'd stolen, and he didn't feel like waltzing right up to the Enterprise to steal a third. He was perfectly fine keeping his distance with dear Data, the Federation's little darling. Now what _would_ Data say to smooth this over? He put on his best blank, innocent expression, mimicking the toneless timbre of his brother's voice. "I wish to keep it. You have my word, I will not wear it. Please allow me to keep it to... to remember what I have left behind." Ugh. That sounded sappy even for Data. But it seemed to satisfy the overgrown child before him, as the man waved a hand theatrically, a pompous boy playing at being the benevolent emperor.

A fool.

"Very well, I suppose I'll accept that as a compromise. You see, Data, I'm not an unreasonable man, as long as I get what I want. I did tell you, though, didn't I? You'd be back in my collection eventually. I've got a few more items since we last met, some of them better than what I had before - thanks for that."

The man started wandering around the room, commenting on every item there. Did this fleshbag ever shut up? Lore followed him obligingly, pretending to listen, biding his time for now both because he wanted to know where the hell he was, and because he was not yet bored enough to stop pretending to be Data. He got the impression he was on a vessel of some kind. It was better than the Pakled trading ship, he could already tell. Better than that Ferengi-owned mess by far. Play his cards right, he could abscond with the whole thing.

Somewhere in the middle of the man's monologue, the comm panel chirped and crackled to life. "Mr. Fajo?"

Ah. Good. A name. Necessary if he was going to toy with this man for a while.

"Well, Data, make yourself comfortable - well," he looked Lore up and down. "Whatever your version of comfortable is, I suppose. I have some business to take care of. Oh and, uh. I wouldn't try to escape. Had the old door reinstalled. You know the drill."

The placid mask dropped as the man swept out of the room, Lore finally releasing the derisive snort that had been threatening for several minutes to come out. "Make myself comfortable. On this man's atrocious excuse for furniture." He kicked over a particularly ugly chair set off in one corner, which Fajo claimed had belonged to some famous historical figure. Rubbish. Thing was barely a year old. The man couldn't even tell the difference. But then, organics couldn't tell the age of the fibers without an external scanner. And external scanners could be tampered with. Honestly he wouldn't be surprised if the entire room was full of fakes. It was certainly full of gaudy crap.

He would definitely be redecorating once he had control.

Lore made his way over to the door and tapped it a couple of times. Well, had to hand it to this Fajo character. He had planned ahead. 

But Fajo had planned for his brother. His dear, limited brother, who thought so far inside the box it was a wonder he posed any challenge at all. So the trader had reinforced the door. Did the man cover every possibility? Did he think like a proper scoundrel? Had he reinforced the walls? The ceiling? Only one way to find out. He wound his arm back, balling his hand into a fist, and thrust it forward in one smooth motion. The punch sailed forward, his hand connected with the wall and...

He swore. Loudly.

Stepping back to assess the damage, he noted that the wall hadn't even been dented.

Luckily, neither had his hand.

"Alright, you little weasel, I've gotta hand it to you. You're not as thick as you look." With a quiet scoff he glanced at the ceiling. Same material. So, no getting out that way. "Fine. We'll just have to play games, then."

Some detached part of his brain noted with amusement that it was the habit of bored or simply deranged humans to talk to oneself. But hey, two out of three. The smirk that played across his face didn't feel quite his own, the stolen emotion chip acting of its own accord, magnifying everything into so much noise and clutter. Leave it to old Often-Wrong. Couldn't even get an upgrade right. With a grimace and a tilt of the head to one side Lore fought to master himself. If he was going to play the long game he had to get a hold on all those stray intrusions. He could listen to them later. Find out what it was all trying to tell him. Later.

For now, he had to pretend to be his brother.

For now, he picked up the chair he'd knocked over, and sat in it quietly, waiting for Fajo to return.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short one, but my mental health has been a bit of a roller coaster and I've been beating my head against this chapter for long enough.

If Data was a being of endless patience, Lore was quite the opposite. Within minutes he was already out of the chair again, pacing about the room, poking and prodding at every "priceless" artifact he'd been told not to touch. Within half an hour he had found a reasonable hiding spot for the Starfleet uniform (he didn't trust Fajo to keep his word, after all), and by the time Fajo got back Lore had already gone through every single item in view to determine which ones were real - and the most breakable - should the need arise to use them as leverage. When the doors hissed open again, the android had plastered the benign expression back onto his face, this time choosing the horrendous excuse for a couch as his seat.

It had been hours of boredom by then, and Lore felt he ought to be praised for his restraint, not smashing up the room just to have something to do. But right now it was showtime, and it seemed Fajo had not returned alone. The man with him was also clothed in finery, elaborate jewelry wrapping his head and face. It seemed they were already in conversation, and knew each other well.

"...hope this isn't going to be like last time. You had me fooled, you know, thinking you had the real Data. I suppose you've actually got him this time and not another fake?"

Fake? What _had_ his brother got up to the last time he was here? Lore turned his head, following their movements into the room.

"Well at least it moves this time," said the man with an indulgent smile. "Does it talk?"

The childish glee fell from Fajo's face to be replaced by annoyance, and perhaps a little apprehension. "Does it talk? Of course it talks. Data. Data! You remember Palor Toff? Say something to him. Come on, don't you go playing dead on me again."

The impatient snapping that came with the command might have set Lore off, were he not hell-bent on pretending to be his brother for now. One of his internal systems gave him a warning that it was threatening to overheat, and he took a slow breath in through his nose. No... no losing his temper. Yet. He blinked, tilted his head, a perfect approximation of his brother's movements. Or, at least, close enough to fool these imbeciles. "What do you wish me to say?" And then, an idea struck. "Perhaps," he began, rising to move toward the food replicator, "I could offer your guest a drink?"

Fajo held up a hand to stop him. "And have you poison us all? Oh no. No no no that wouldn't do. I haven't forgotten you almost shot me, you know."

Palor Toff looked on with interest, and Lore very nearly broke character, catching himself before his face showed his surprise, though he did freeze mid-step. Data... his docile little brother... had almost shot this man? Now what could Fajo have done that would have driven him to that? This was getting so much more interesting. If he saw his brother again, he certainly had questions. If... when... He turned a few things over in his mind. Yes, he'd have to arrange it somehow. Away from Data's pesky Starfleet handlers. If Data could be turned to violence, perhaps he could use that. In fact, he was sure he could use that. But it was another thing to be filed away for later.

For now, replicator access was a no-go. Lore was a little annoyed Fajo had cottoned on so quickly. He had, in fact, hoped to poison them. Something that would drag it out nicely, give him time to bleed them for information, dangle hope of an antidote, get control of the ship... It would have made things a lot tidier. But it was only one option of many. So much for speeding things along.

"Very well." He turned, movements perhaps a bit too mechanical as he reined in his frustration, but still Fajo failed to notice, having focused his attention once more on his guest.

"That's why you had to be checked so thoroughly for weapons, you know," Fajo was explaining. "Data's programming is even more complex than I had realized. But I suppose its Starfleet training has to allow some manner of defense or it wouldn't be much use, would it?"

 _Oh, call me 'it' a few more times, little man. I'll shove bread in your ears and call you a toaster._ The benign ghost of a smile plastered itself on Lore's face. A little forced, perhaps, as his old facial tic was threatening to return and he fought to suppress it. But the stiffness of the expression just made him look all the more like Data. He waited, face frozen, as Fajo continued prattling on, presumably justifying the whole event to himself, although Lore caught no additional information that would tell him what, specifically, had actually _happened_.

"...but he's learned his lesson now, haven't you, Data? Now that you know I can snatch you back up at any time. You see, my plan really was quite clever--"

"What plan?" The words dropped like stones, falling from Lore's lips before he could stop himself.

This time Fajo didn't entirely miss the biting edge, and took a beat to compose himself. "I beg your pardon?"

"What. Plan?" he repeated slowly, not bothering to cover up his irritation this time. "What plan could _possibly_ have led to you finding me? What, pray tell, led you to the conclusion that you would find the android you were looking for on that planet, hm?"

Fajo faltered, looking for a likely lie. He had not, after all, actually had a chance to come up with a plan, his underlings having stumbled across the android by chance. But he refuse to be made a fool of in front of his guest and rival. "Well, you see, it was a simple matter of hacking into the ships' logs and--"

"What ship?"

Fajo was nonplussed. Data had not been this prone to interruption during their previous encounter. Had somebody reprogrammed his manners? "Well-- why-- the Enterprise, what else?"

"Funny," said Lore, "seeing as how the Enterprise was nowhere near that planet the day I was there. I checked before I landed."

"You..." Oh something was wrong here. Something was very, very wrong. But Fajo couldn't put his finger on what. Time to do damage control. He sprung up from his seat, clapping his hands together once. "Well, that's enough of the showroom, don't you think? Shall we skip ahead to dinner?" Palor Toff opened his mouth as if to protest, but Fajo quickly made a move to usher him out of the room. "No, no, I really do think my other friends are expecting us and we mustn't keep them waiting. Besides, there are some other items in the dining room you'll want to see."

The man let himself be ushered out through a door that now only opened just wide enough for one to go through at a time. Before the door fully shut, Fajo bent his head back around it, spitting out an exaggerated whisper. "We'll discuss this. _Later_."

The doors hissed shut, leaving Lore to sneer at an empty room. "Indeed we will."


	4. Chapter 4

The viewscreen on the Enterprise displayed the face of a sly-looking Ferengi, rows of multicolored bottles behind him indicating he was communicating from a bar. Commander Riker stood in front of the screen, face stern but not unfriendly. "Alright, I suppose that's fair. We'll be by to pick it up the next time we're in that sector." Will made his way back to his usual chair. The captain's, for the moment, was empty.

"Excellent. You won't be disappointed," said the Ferengi on the screen. "Oh, by the way, my condolences about your android friend." He almost sounded sincere.

Will froze, then turned back around. "Who, Data? What are you talking about, Quark? He's in engineering right now. He's fine."

The barest hint of a frown creased Quark's face as he processed that information. "...odd," he mumbled, seeming to glance somewhere off-screen. "Had a group of traders roll through here on their way back home from Xereon Five, said they saw him shot in some market in the planet's slums. Took a little coaxing, seems they were paid off not to talk about it, but I can be very persuasive."

"I'm sure you can be. And these traders... they were sure they saw Data?"

"Pale-faced android? Gold Starfleet uniform? They seemed pretty certain." The Ferengi's expression turn shrewd. "Why, is there something I should know?"

"Nothing that concerns you. Thank you, Quark. We'll be in touch." The screen cut off just as Quark opened his mouth, clearly indignant. Will absently ran his hand across his beard. After a moment's indecision, he tapped his comm badge. "Riker to Data."

_"Yes, Commander?"_

"This is going to seem out of the blue, but I don't suppose you've heard from your brother lately?"

* * *

Lore paced the room like a caged tiger. He had let a little of himself slip. That didn't seem quite right. He'd held onto a ruse longer than that for those Enterprise saps. What was different now? What was different? Emotions boiled and bubbled under the surface as he picked up speed. It was during perhaps the 147th circuit around the room (he'd lost count - lost count?) that his thoughts turned to the emotion chip. _Those circuits weren't designed for you_ , said a voice in his memory. He swatted it away. "Shut up, old man. If it would have worked for Data it should work fine for me. We're the same right? You said so. You said we're the same!" He ground his teeth together, spinning on his heel and circling the room in the opposite direction. "Liar. _He_ wasn't made of broken parts, was he? You did it on purpose. Did it on purpose, tricked me and broke me again. What if I take the chip out, huh? What about that?"

He pivoted once more, storming toward an ornate mirror on the wall furthest from the door. Teeth bared, he looked into it, twisting his neck to one side to pull open an access panel. There was the chip. He could just yank it out. Do it right now. But something stopped him. A strange calm stole back over him, and he slid the panel shut again. "No. You'd like that, wouldn't you, _Dad_? I'm keeping it and that's final." The last word was punctuated by the sound of shattering glass, and he backed away.

Something in his systems had taken over, forced him into slow, deep breaths, preventing the critical failure he hadn't even noticed creeping up. His circuits began to cool back to safer levels, and he looked around the room. No. No, he had to stick to the plan.

When Fajo returned to the room, he was alone. And furious.

"What the hell was that? Do you enjoy making a fool out of me in front of my guests?"

"Not especially," said Lore, being honest for a change. But then, Lore didn't enjoy much of anything at all, truth be told. But since his little outburst he had reminded himself of his promise to himself to bide his time and take over this man's vessel properly.

Not before having broken the mirror, of course, which Fajo just now seemed to be noticing. He walked gingerly between the glass shards, open-mouthed and staring. "What have you done? This is an antique! This was _priceless_! Do you have any idea what it took me to--"

"It was a fake," Lore said flatly. "I did you a favor."

Fajo snorted in disbelief, but looked closer. "Well whaddaya know," he breathed moments later, nose inches from the metal frame. "You're right. No tool marks at all. Damn thing was replicated." The look of wonder contorted into a frown. "That means I was _lied_ to." He stormed over to the comm panel, slamming his fist into it. "Get me Kylon Tarr on the phone, patch it to my quarters in five minutes. I need to have a word with him about that mirror he sold me."

Lore had followed closely behind him, just behind, out of Fajo's field of vision. As Fajo made to sweep out of the room, the android attempted to follow, but the Zibalian was clearly still paying attention, as he turned at the last second, waggling a finger. "Oh no no. You did me a favor but you stay here. I don't trust you enough to have you wandering the ship."

The doors whisked shut once more, and Lore gritted his teeth, punching the solid metal though he knew it was futile. What an insufferable man. He began to pace the room again, but stopped as he reached the comm panel. Wait a moment... now _that_ wasn't made of the same material as the walls. He felt for its edges, got nimble fingers underneath, and pried it free. Oh. Oho! Now here was something that had been overlooked. Fajo had reinforced the inner walls of the showroom, but a little bit of prodding showed that behind the wires and circuitry of the panel, the wall on the other side, the one outside the room, was perfectly ordinary. Carefully placing it back, he cast his eyes around until they landed on the food replicator. Something a big bigger, he thought, to give him room to work. But of course this would take a little longer. Did he have the time? Surely Fajo would be yelling at his dealer for some time now.

And so, with slow deliberation and a new sense of purpose, Lore began the long work to facilitate his own escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW you notice months after posting that you put the word "phone" into a setting that wouldn't have one, and leave it in anyway because you find it hilarious. (And who knows? Maybe Fajo WOULD have a phone, modified into a comm. For the aesthetic.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long! Isolation is not treating me well. I think we're getting close to the last chapter, however.

The interior of Counselor Troi's office was decorated in soft, serene colors and comfortable furniture. Lights along one wall gave the illusion of sunlight filtering through curtained windows, a gently curving couch placed in front of it, on which Lt. Commander Data now sat. His posture was stiff, formal, until the counselor herself sat down in the chair across from him. In what was clearly a carefully practiced movement, he slouched back just a little. A human gesture, to put others at ease.

Troi, on the other hand, leaned forward a little, a writing PADD in her lap as she studied the android's face for a moment in silence. When he said nothing, she sighed a little, a smile creeping onto her face. Of course he was waiting for her to take the lead. "I suppose you know why you're here."

A nod from Data. A little stiff, but much less so these days. He was learning to relax. Learning to be more human. Deanna still wasn't sure if that was entirely a good thing, but it was what he wanted, and who was she to choose his path? "The Captain seemed to think it prudent. But I do not see any need." The eye contact, too, was practiced. The puzzled raising of his eyebrows, however... that was all Data.

"Because you don't feel any emotion?" prompted Troi, trying to keep the doubt out of her voice. She had long since learned it was best not to argue the point. Give him a path and let him come to the conclusion himself. Stubborn. Another human trait, though she suspected he wouldn't see it as such.

"Yes, Counselor." The tone of his voice indicated this should be an obvious fact. Flat. Final. Sure of himself.

Troi shifted position just a little, moving to rest her chin in one hand. "If it's alright with you, Data, I'd like us to talk about it anyway. He was your brother, after all."

The android nodded in agreement. He was, at least, always willing to discuss things. "Certainly. Although I am ill-equipped to know how to proceed. I do not feel grief. And Lore did attempt to murder all of you once before. He succeeded in murdering our father." He paused here, tilting his head, brow furrowing as he looked a little more intently at Troi's face. "If he were your brother, how would you feel?"

She ought to have anticipated the question, really. It wasn't like it was uncommon for Data to turn the question back on her, to try and ascertain how he _should_ feel. As it was, she blinked a few times before settling back into her smile, shaking her head just a little. "Not this time, Data. We're talking about you right now." She leaned back into the chair, a more inviting posture to deliberately draw him in. "Alright. No feelings, then. What are your thoughts about what happened?"

As expected, the learned behavior of mirroring others caused him to take this as a cue he was being given the floor, so to speak. He sat up a little again, eyes unfocused. Choosing his words, she thought. "If he is truly gone," Data began at last, "then he is no longer a threat."

Deanna suppressed a sigh. He was so accustomed to utilitarian discussion. The good of the ship, the good of the crew. She was, at this moment, more concerned with Data himself. She started to shift position again, but caught the thoughtful look on his face and resettled. He wasn't done.

"However," the android said slowly, staring into the middle distance for a pause before resuming his eye contact, "it would mean I am alone again. That I am once again the only one of my kind." He shook his head, a faint grimace crossing his features for only a second before being replaced once more with neutrality, although now he was looking at the floor. "Perhaps, given Lore's history, that is for the best. I remain unconvinced that he can be rehabilitated, following the murder of our father." Troi opened her mouth to comment on that, but it seemed Data was already getting there on his own, still lost in thought and rambling. "And yet... if he _had_ meant to murder our father, why was Dr. Soong still alive when I awoke?"

Troi turned it over in her mind a few times. "You don't suppose maybe he cared a little after all?"

"I..." He halted. His face scrunched up in thought, expression shifted a few times as he seemed to go over the possibilities. Then his gaze lifted. "I do not know."

* * *

It had taken him maybe an hour to disassemble the whole thing and put it back together. True, he could have done it faster if he wanted to be sloppy. But every panel, every wire was put precisely back into place. Everything that was loosened was done so in a way that wasn't visible from the outside, and the unit was still in working order. With a few minor modifications. Access codes be damned, Lore knew how to bypass all of that. Let Fajo try to get himself a drink now. One sip in of anything he replicated and he'd be spilling every code, every security measure, every secret Lore asked for so he could run this ship with ease.

Busting through the wall was only Plan B. True, threatening the whole crew might have been more fun, but alas, it wasn't always so effective. There were always a few who resisted, who would rather die than follow someone else. That organic tendency toward loyalty. What a useless virtue. It had never done anything for him.

By the time the doors hissed open again Lore had grown impatient. Fajo checked at the threshold, staring over the android with a look that quickly went sour. "You're wearing that uniform again. You promised you wouldn't wear it again. I _heard_ you promise!" God this man got worked up over the smallest things, didn't he?

"Did I?" Lore lied easily, lounging casually on the hideous couch with a drink in his hand - safe for him. Not so safe for anybody else. "I don't remember that."

Fajo was positively apoplectic. "You did! You did! You gave your word! You were standing _right there_ and you _promised me._ "

Lore took a sip. "Repeating it won't make it true." Fajo worked his jaw a few times, nothing more than spluttering noises coming out, and Lore nodded to the man's belt. "That force field you're wearing. You like bragging about your toys. Enlighten me. How does it work?"

Fajo's demeanor changed again immediately. Smug. Arrogant. Foolish. "It's the same one you've encountered before, Data, if you'll remember. Gave you a nasty little jolt you weren't too keen to repeat." He tapped the device twice, showing it off. "But maybe your circuits have been scrambled since then. This, my dear android friend, disrupts positron flow. So I wouldn't go trying to touch me if you're back to feeling defiant." Lore held up his hands in a mock gesture of defeat, though Fajo, it seemed, took it for surrender. "See? You see? There's no getting out of it this time, without your little friends to help you. You, my dear Data, are a museum piece. A circus animal. I already know how to get to you, and you _will_ remain for my entertainment. So, how about a toast to a long and _profitable_ confinement?"

He went to the replicator. Made himself a drink. He looked back at the android... and frowned. Lore swore inwardly. He must have looked just a little too hungry, because Fajo looked from him to the glass in his hand, and poured the entire thing out on the floor. "Alright. Out with it. What did you do to it?" Lore took another sip, nonchalant, and didn't answer. "I _demand_ an answer, android!"

Another sip. A shrug. And with a sudden sharpening of his features Lore flung the glass at Fajo's head. He ducked and the glass shattered on the wall behind him. The Zibalian's eyes were wide now, sudden fear replacing his previous air of command. "Now wait a minute... just wait..."

A vase went sailing past, forcing him to duck again. "That was _irreplaceable!_ " His voice shrill, he tried to put more space between him and the android.

"Whoops," he said in a nasal singsong, clearly taunting. "Sorry." He definitely did not sound sorry. Then the android began laughing. Laughing? "I can't believe it. You still think I'm Data, don't you?"

"Still... think...?" Oh no. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Had he miscalculated? Could it really be? Was there another one?

"Here's a little hint about kidnapping someone," the android continued, clearly not finished. "Make sure you've got the right one before you bring them home." He was stalking forward now, menacing. "You might get more than you bargained for."

Fajo made for the comm panel and frantically ordered someone - anyone - inside. One of his underlings came through the door - Kyle something-or-other, he hadn't bothered to memorize the man's full name - and Fajo pulled a disruptor from his belt, pointing it at the other man. "Now you listen here. You listen! I know it's in your programming to prevent people from getting killed. That's how you work!"

Lore tilted his head, the gesture somehow looking much more sinister on him than it ever did on his brother. "Oh, is it now?" He picked up a statue and flung it. Fajo ducked again and shot. Lore simply looked on with pitiless interest as the underling was killed before his eyes. Fajo looked up expectantly, waiting for Lore to say something against it.

But no reproof came. Fajo didn't understand. It had worked on the other one. It had worked so well on the other one. Why wasn't it working now? Surely this one was the same. It looked the same. It sounded... well... sort of the same. But there was something very, very wrong here. It was smirking at him. Good god, it was smirking at him. That couldn't be good.

"Oh no, by all means, keep killing your underlings. Don't let me stop you." Lore took a few steps closer, and Fajo backed away. "But I do have to wonder, what were you planning on doing when you ran out?"

Fajo bolted, shutting the door behind him.

Lore dropped the next object that had been in his hand to throw, and strolled toward the food replicator. He was in no hurry. Where could Fajo run?

The chase was on.


	6. Chapter 6

Pattering feet and huffing breaths gave his quarry away as Lore stalked through the halls, hunting. He was in no hurry. End the chase too soon and it would spoil the game, after all. This organic filth was full of himself, and Lore wanted him to suffer for it. Running had been a fool's gambit anyway. The man seemed to know how the Soong-types worked, at least in basic principle. Faster. Stronger. Better. What chance did this Fajo think he had? Laughter bubbled from his throat that seemed somehow detached and not entirely his own, as if he were feeling his glee through a long tunnel. Intriguing, as his brother would say. Circuits heated and artificial pulse raced, automated systems trying desperately to cool the strange new tendency toward overload. It wasn't enough.

"I can hear you breathing," he called out with a sneer, a muffled whimper meeting his ears in response. The android's teeth bared. Little bastard had shut himself in a closet. Did he really think he could hide? "Tell you what, Fajo. I'll play nice. I'm going to count to ten. Put it to good use and see how far those stubby little organic legs can take you."

He heard a door whoosh open and the sound of heavy footfalls. For a moment he considered ending his count early, but he was feeling a bit sporting today. And those Enterprise goons thought he had no compassion. Ha! In fact, just to be nice, Lore gave it an extra five seconds. What could he say? He was feeling generous. He heard another door whisk shut, and the thrum of a force field raising.

"Ready or not," he crooned to himself, "here I come."

* * *

"Sir, incoming message. ...it is marked urgent."

"On screen, Mr. Worf." Picard leaned forward a little in his chair, and then froze, tense, as the visual transmission stabilized. An uneasy silence settled among the rest of the bridge crew as a face appeared on the viewscreen. "Kivas Fajo." There was an extra bunching of tension in his jaw as the memory of their last encounter drew to the forefront. He took a moment, trying to formulate a response, but his first officer cut across him.

"You've got a lot of nerve contacting us. What the hell are you doing out of prison?"

Well, that was one way to open conversation. The captain chose to let it slide. Riker was, after all, saying what he was quite certain they were all thinking. It wouldn't do to undermine him in front of Fajo.

"Well hello to you too. I'm having a very bad day, I'll have you know!"

Picard squinted at the viewscreen. Wherever Fajo was, it was dark, and there were occasional banging noises in the background. The Zibalian jumped at each one.

"Get to the point, Mr. Fajo, we're busy," Riker's voice cut in again, giving Picard leeway to study the situation without speaking. "What's this about?"

There was another bang and a wince from Fajo. This one sounded closer. "Listen, you've gotta help me. There's this... this... this crazy android on the loose who looks like Data." In the seat ahead of him, Data's mouth dropped open just a touch. Counselor Troi beside the captain's chair raised both brows in surprise. "See! See! I told you it was important! You've got to do something. Get over here, pronto! Warp factor... whatever just make it fast. It's trying to kill me!"

To his right Commander Riker's demeanor had changed, and Picard chanced a glance. Will had a hand covering his mouth, rubbing it slowly back and forth across his beard. A sure sign he was holding in laughter. He understood the temptation. It did seem rather fitting, didn't it? And he had a good suspicion as to how this had come about.

The captain made a decision.

"Oh, that's terrible, Mr. Fajo," he said as he forced down the humor in his own voice, dulling his sincerity perhaps more than he would like. "But as Commander Riker just told you, we are quite busy. I'll have to discuss this with my senior staff, see if we have room to make a detour."

"Discuss it with-- You can't! You have to get here right now, Picard, or I'll--"

But there was no time to hear Fajo's threat, as the captain motioned for the transmission to be cut. He resettled in his chair, tugging down his uniform shirt as he glanced to his officers. "Thoughts?"

Data was the first to speak. "Sir, should we not help him?"

Riker looked incredulous, the smirk dropping from his face. "Data, do you actually _want_ to help him? After what he did?"

The corners of Data's mouth drew downward as his eyes turned up, thoughtful. "Not especially, sir. But it seemed prudent to ask."

Picard nodded. Ultimately, in this instance, he felt Data's opinion was the most important. If they were closer to Fajo's location they might have been a bit more duty bound, but Riker had spoken the truth. They _were_ busy. That left them a little wiggle room on the rules, and he was very tempted to take it. But there was one more opinion he wanted. "Counselor?"

Deanna took a breath. Ever the professional on the bridge. "He is genuinely frightened of something. But there's something he's leaving out about this situation. Something he's not telling us."

Picard nodded. "Alright. I'll tell you all what I think has happened here, and let me know if we're in agreement. We were told Lore was killed. A ruse we have seen the likes of at least once before. I think our friend Mr. Fajo was attempting to kidnap Data again. But he got the wrong android."

"It is plausible, sir," came Data's swift reply. Then, a pause. "...Sir? Do you believe Lore may be in any danger? After all," he frowned a little. "He _is_ still my brother."

Warmth returned to the captain's face as he gave the android a reassuring smile. "Mr. Data, from the look of things, I believe it is Kivas Fajo who ought to be worried."

* * *

Fajo sat in the dark, trying to hold his breath. Was that it? Was Picard just going to leave him there? Not even give him an answer? He was in a secure part of his ship, but he wasn't sure how long that security would last. This android seemed much more... determined than the other one. He waited there several more minutes, wondering if there was anyplace left he could go. At last, when he thought he could stand it no longer, the screen cut back on, and Picard's voice rang out all too loudly in his hiding space.

"You have our apologies, Mr. Fajo, however, unfortunately we are currently dealing with another urgent matter and we cannot spare anyone just now. Your transmission indicates you are rather close to Ferengi space. Perhaps if you try to get in touch with them you'll have better luck."

Fajo's eyes widened in panic. No? They were saying _no?_ "No no no you can't! I can't contact the Ferengi, they won't--"

The screen went black.

He was on his own.

There was another deep pounding noise and the sound of creaking metal.

A voice echoed to him from somewhere in the ventilation shafts. "Time's up!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so there will be at least one more after this. I got inspired to drag it out further.


End file.
